A little drink, a sword and a dressRoyRiza
by Carpathian Rose
Summary: /photo/my-images/213/30087212193008124664910.jpg/  Based on the picture above, things get a little hot between the Lieutenant and the Colonel...


_This little story is going to be based on this picture here:_

/

_Couldn't resist!_

Everything was finished. Riza Hawkeye couldn't believe that they'd finally reached the end...Roy Mustang, the man that she'd followed for years, the one man she would have followed into hell, had finally reached his goal. Through life and death, things that should have been impossible, things she hated to remember, he'd actually done it. She hadn't strayed from his side once. Not when he'd criticized her and not when she'd held a gun to his head on more occasions than she'd like to remember.

Roy Mustang had succeed...He was Fuhrer.

She smiled and lifted her glass in a silent toast, the amber liquid swirling as she brought it to her lips. Havoc, of course, had done the honors of throwing him a "Fuhrer'-elorette party" as he'd called it, a different version of a bachelorette. A pre-Roy party, so he could remember the 'gold ol' days before he moved on into the AWESOME days. That was Havoc for you, he did the most unheard of things.

She'd put a stop to Havoc antics when he'd suggested strippers. Once again, that was Havoc for you. Roy had almost agreed, that was, until both men had seen the look on her face. They knew better.

Everyone was almost gone now, the room all but empty. She lifted her glass again, her fingers curled around the slender stem of the glass. "Cheers to you, Fuhrer." She said softly, smiling.

She watched as Roy lifted his hand, his own wine glass dangerously full. The smile on his lips was utter contentment, if not a little drunk. He watched her with those familiar eyes as he sipped, one hand curled into a fist and propped beneath his chin. "Cheers to me." He repeated.

Yes, he was definitely past tipsy.

He was wearing that damned military hat, just for the hell out of, and that long, blue adorning coat because he'd "wanted to get the feel of it" and she had to admit, it suited him. She watched as he downed the rest of the contents in his glass, something far more stronger than hers and then settled deeper into his chair, one elbow propped up on the arm rest. He withdrew the sword at his side, the soft sound hissing before the blade caught the overhead lights. He twirled his wrist, his eyes moving over the blade.

He didn't need the sword, she knew that, his Alchemy was a more than formidable weapon, but it was required of the Fuhrer to wear the sword. From the looks, he didn't mind. She chuckled and drank the last of the champagne in her glass before turning, setting it down along with the many other glasses adorning a silver platter.

"So we finally did it, didn't we, Hawkeye?"

She picked up his black jacket and glanced at him over her shoulder, heard the noted slur in his voice. That smile came again, small. She straightened. "I think you've had enough to drink, Sir." She said, her voice teasing. She didn't want him passing out in that chair and she knew he wouldn't want to wake up there with a hangover.

"Maybe."

Something slid along the small of her back, dipping beneath the edge of the black silk wrap she'd worn over the haltered red dress. It lifted the material-

She turned and his sword lifted up in the air between them, back towards him slowly and he started that twirling motion with his wrist again, the light glinting off the sharp blade. He shifted, bringing his right leg up over his left and resting his ankle over his knee. She arched an eyebrow at the smooth expression on his face, the utter calm. She picked up his empty glass and the decanter half full of some unidentified liquid that rested on the table beside him. "I think you've had quite enough to drink, Sir." There was no censure in her voice though.

"Spoil sport." He murmured.

Yes, she was. She knew that, but that was how she kept him in line.

He tilted his head, those dark eyes of his finally locking in on her. The sword moved to the side with his hand, the blade to the left of him as he moved his hand in a circling motion, the blade making small circles in the air. He really liked that sword. He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. "Will you still follow me, Lieutenant?" He murmured.

The question surprised her but she didn't hesitate. She said the words she'd said so long ago. "I will follow you into hell if you ask me to."

He moved then, just his hand and the long blade closed the distance between them. The tip of the blade slid along her shoulder, pushing against the black silk covering her shoulders before dipping further inside, past her shoulder-

She lifted his black jacket that was in her arms and pushed the blade away so that it tilted sideways and _away._She shook her head. "Come on, Sir. You're drunk. I think it's time you went home." He just stared at her with that blank expression. He moved then, another of those rolling twists of his wrist and the sword was between them again. She didn't know how he did but the blade slid across the black silk and then it was sliding over her shoulders. Instantly she could feel the cool air on her bare shoulders and back.

He smiled, white teeth flashing. "Practice makes perfect."

Her eyes narrowed. He was drunk, though he wasn't a mindless, raving lunatic drunk. He was a...calm drunk. She sighed. "Put the sword away, Sir."

He just stared at her, as if he hadn't even heard her order, the tip of the sword making invisible motions in the air again. "I saw it when you reached for your glass, you know."

She frowned at that. "What?"

"That dress. The back of it is..." His lips played that mindless smile of his as he brought the sword up between them again and slowly began to lower it in the air between them, though not touching her. The flared curved tip of the sword stopped at her abdomen, her belly button. "...and it ends right here, back there."

Realization dawned. The back of her dress was completely backless. It dipped low, the edge starting at the small of her back before it fell down her legs, a split all the way up to mid-thigh. She'd warn that black silk wrap for a reason, though not because of embarrassment of a little skin. No, she had a secret all of her own, one that Roy knew, that no one else needed to know about.

"I've never seen you in a dress." He murmured.

"Yes, you have."

"Uh uh..." He shook his head, his eyes moving over the red material that covered her body. "...those were skirts. Those were shirts and a jacket. This..." He lifted that sword again, the blade dangerously close to her body and just when she thought he was about to put it away, the blade slid beneath the haltered strap behind her neck, the blade resting against her skin. He lifted his hand, the sword following his movement and she could feel the material pulling against her skin...

She lowered her hand and withdrew the pistol that was strapped to her thigh. His eyes followed the movement before they trailed back up and he met her eyes as she lifted her hand. Her hand didn't waver.

"You're drunk."

"Really?" He murmured.

"Yes, put the sword down."

He smiled.

"Don't make me shoot you..."

He lifted his hand a little higher and the haltered strap around her neck left her skin completely. His eyes followed the movement, as if he were drawn to it before his eyes lifted, meeting hers again. "You won't."

"What?"

That smile came again, so calm, so cool on his expression. "Shoot." He murmured. "You won't shoot me."

"And why do you think that?" They'd bantered before; it just came natural between the two of them. But this was different.

"You care too much." He murmured and before she could even process his words he lifted the sword up again those few inches and the blade sliced through the halter. The material sank over each shoulder and the front of the dress sagged, threatening to fall-

He moved, maybe she didn't see him move because she hadn't expected him to. All she knew was that he'd left the chair and his hands were spinning her around so that her back was to him. One of his hands caught both of hers in his and he pinned them to the desk in front of her, holding her wrists. She jerked but his hold was firm, keeping them flat against the desk. She tensed as his free hand slid down her back, from the back of her neck all the way to the small of her back.

He flatted his hand at the small of her back, right above where the dress started over the curve of her ass. And then his lips touched the back of her neck. "I hated doing this to you." He whispered, his voice low, almost tortured. "I hated that you made me do it…" Her mouth went dry at his words as his lips slid lower and then lifted. They came again, touching her left shoulder blade. And then they left before he sank down a little. His lips slid over a small jagged scar on the right side of her back…and she realized what he was doing.

Her knees buckled as she realized he was kissing the scars that he'd created.

"I always wondered if I left as little as damage as possible…" He whispered against her back, his lips tracing a patch of smooth inked skin. She knew exactly what he was doing it she clenched her eyes shut at the thought. He was touching, he was kissing the secret that she'd kept from the world. A secret that only the two of them knew. The secret to Flame Alchemy on her back that her Father had forever marked into her skin.

"I told you once that I can't lose you." Roy said against the right curve of the Alchemic circle. He sank to his knees behind her as his lips left the curved line, settling into a straight downward movement. His hand left her skin, sliding over the outside of her right thigh before moving back up, his fingers tracing the symbolic language at the small of her back, right over the material that started at the curve of her ass. "You never listen."

"Stop." She finally managed to whisper, though her voice lacked the conviction it needed.

"You're always lying about who you are…" She shuddered as his tongue smoothed over the ink, the words marked into her skin. "…so cold. That ice cold façade of yours."

"What?" She whispered and vainly pulled at the one hand that held both of hers trapped in front of her, but he held firm.

"I've hurt you more times than I can count, even when I said I wouldn't." He muttered.

"You're lying." He stood and her knees buckled. His lips touched where they'd started, the back of her neck. "Everyone thinks you're so cold. But you're not…" He turned her and her eyes opened. He removed his hand from hers but then both of his were moving, sliding over the back of hers and pushing them back down onto the desk with little pressure. He pressed them down over the top of hers on either side of her hips, keeping them pinned at her side as he leaned over her.

"But on the inside you're hot…" Her breath nearly stopped as he lowered his head, as he sank his weight against her. "Like a volcano waiting to erupt. You're all fire, Riza." He whispered before his lips touched hers.

He was kissing her. Roy Mustang, the man who she would have given her life for, was kissing her. If her hands had been free, she probably would have shot him. She was sure of that…wasn't she? If he hadn't been drinking, she knew he wouldn't have kissed her. But she'd always heard that Alcohol brought out the truth. God, his words couldn't be true. They couldn't.

His lips moved against hers, so soft, so gentle. He tilted his head and freed his right hand but like before, he didn't leave her hands free for long. Using both hands he brought them up behind her back, keeping her hands against the table, and circled both of her wrists in just one of his hands. She was…helpless. It was as if he'd been waiting to do that because his free hand moved up, sliding over the side of her neck and then into her upswept hair. His hand tangled in the golden strands before fisting them softly.

A shiver went down her spine as his tongue slid past her lips, pushing, seeking entrance. His taste filled her mouth, like dark chocolate. He tasted of the Alcohol he'd been drinking, faint, but still there. The kiss was slow and teasing and just as slowly as he'd started the kiss, not even waiting for her to kiss him back, his lips were sliding down.

Her tongue slid over her lips and she could taste him there. Her heart beat unsteadily as his lips moved along her chin and then down the side of her neck. Her knees did buckle then when they stopped at her pulse and his tongue darted out, sliding over the throbbing skin. If he hadn't been holding her up, his body pressing hers against the desk, she would have fallen.

"Oh my God." Her words were low, almost a moan, as he bit her. He bit the throbbing pulse at the base of her neck, his teeth leaving a sharp sting behind before his tongue slid over it, as if soothing.

She couldn't form a single coherent thought, much less a full sentence as his head dipped, switched directions. His lips left a burning trail along her collarbone. Vaguely she felt a tug against her chest, the smooth material that he'd so guiltlessly sliced apart at her neck, sink low…

"Stop." She whispered; the word, the sound almost choked out, barely even audible.

She could barely breathe as his weight left hers and it was only seconds before he was pressed back against her body, the stiff material of his jacket pressing against her. It took her a moment to realize that the cold metal marking him as the Fuhrer, the material of the long blue overcoat was pressing against naked flesh. Her mouth went dry. He'd tugged the clinging material of her dress loose from between them and dragged it down to her hips. But she wasn't naked. No, he was pressed against her, her breasts flattened against his shirt clothed and jacketed chest.

The top of his head, his hair teased her chin and then he rocked his head up inches, tilting her head back…His lips slid over her collarbone, his tongue catching in the indention at the base of her throat before moving lower. Oh God. She tugged at her hands again but his hands squeezed hers, almost as if in warning—or a caress as left thumb slid over the back of her hand.

Her breath lodged in her throat as he moved a little lower, his chest leaving hers free but he didn't pull away completely, he didn't look. All he did was follow the path with his lips, sliding over the up thrust curve of her breast…What made it so unbearable was the fact that she knew where his lips were headed. And he was so slow, teasing inch by inch of skin.

And she was so hot, her skin heated by the time moved back slightly. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed. She could feel his eyes on her but he didn't say anything. He just stared. Her eyes sld closed because she didn't want to look at him. And then he spoke. "So beautiful." He whispered before he leaned in and then she felt the hot, wet heat of his mouth close over her nipple.

Shock filtered through her, hot and heavy, so good that she couldn't stand anymore. He stood halfway and leaned his weight against her hips and stomach. But he didn't move his mouth. Oh, God, but he didn't move his mouth. He latched on and _sucked._Her head fell back, her eyes clenched shut at the erotic feel, unable to even describe it. His tongue lashed out at it, around and beneath before he sucked hard, pressing it against the roof of his mouth. And then he pulled away, his movements almost jerky before he shifted to the left side of her and took her other breast in his mouth, repeating that same, sweet torture.

"Oh…my…" Riza whispered, the sound a low strung moan in the empty room. "…God."

She couldn't move, she couldn't have stopped even if she'd wanted to as he released her breast, her nipple from his mouth. The cold air replaced the heat of his mouth, making her nipples peak out. He kissed the slopes, never leaving that area of her body, just tracing every inch of her skin that he could. And then he rolled his hips against her stomach and she could _feel_ him.

Hot. Thick, long and hard.

And he didn't say one word through it all. Not even when he moved away from her body like he had before, just inches. He sank lower every time he kissed her skin, following the place between her breasts to her ribs, kissing each indentention. His knees bent and then he was sinking to his knees on the carpet as his lips slid over her abdomen. He released her hands and just like before, he didn't let her go. He switched both of hers to one hand as he kissed the skin of her stomach.

His free hand spanned her stomach, palm flat and then slid over her hip and lower. He traced her thigh, the feel muted by the dress before he moved lower. And lower. He didn't stop till he reached her ankle. His hand dipped beneath the material and cupped smooth skin, circling her ankle before he moved his hand up, never removing his hand.

His hand slid up her leg till he reached leather and metal. His thumb smoothed over the empty holster strapped to her thigh, the metal buckle that strapped it there. "I always thought this was so hot." He whispered as he leaned in and kissed the leather. "Every time I saw you in one of those skirts you wore outside of work, knowing you wore one of these…Jesus, woman." His lips moved down, his tongue darting out to touch the place where skin met leather. He traced it all the way around her thigh till he couldn't reach the back before following the path back to the front.

His hand gave her thigh a squeeze before he cupped it firmly, his thumb sliding over the bare skin there. He gave her thigh a last kiss before he stood suddenly. He lifted her thigh as he came to his full height and hooked it over his hip as he sank against her. He released her hands, finally, and sank his hand into her hair, knocking the clip that had held the strands free.

He whispered something, his voice a harsh—she didn't know what—and then he kissed her again. Hard. It wasn't like before. The first kiss had been gentle, teasing. This kiss was all about the hot heat that was roaring between them. He kissed her hard and she moaned as his tongue _thrust_ into her mouth, his grip tight, forcing her head back as he devoured her mouth.

She moaned, the sound trapped between their lips and lifted her free hands, sliding them into his dark hair. She kissed him back—she couldn't not kiss him back. Her tongue followed his and when her tongue slid into his mouth and over his, the kiss exploded. He groaned into her mouth, the sound a rough curse. He kissed her hard, almost as if he was bent on possessing her mouth, claiming it, his tongue thrusting so deep it was almost in her throat.

He refused to leave her lips, the hot, melted taste of honey as his hands left her. She felt his knuckles brush her bare skin as his hands fought between them, struggling and then the long blue overcoat was falling to the floor. Her arms sank and she wrapped them around his shoulders and hefted herself up. But instead of sinking onto the desk she wrapped her other leg around his waist so that both of her legs were locked around him. He took the movement and took that one inch step that would give her the desk so that she sat down on it. Vaguely, she felt his hands again, he'd never stopped what he was doing. His hands worked at the buttons on his shirt, almost desperately as he attacked her lips, his tongue thrusting in and out, hers mimicking his.

When he pulled his half unbutton shirt free from his pants she took advantage. Her hands slid down the smooth expanse of his cloth covered chest, her nails scraping before they dipped beneath the white material. Her hands met hot, hard flesh, smoothing over a rock hard stomach.

"Shit." He whispered against his lips, the sound harsh and then she heard the sound of buttons flying, one of them landing on the table and beginning a small spin before it rattled off the edge. One of his hands fisted in her hair again, jerking her head back as he fucked her mouth with his tongue. He jerked her head back by her hair and only then did she realize that he was pulling her back…pulling her back against the desk as he lifted one knee and braced it over the edge, lifting himself up over her.

A pen dug into her back, a few papers flattened against her skin as he sank over her, never once breaking that kiss. Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling as his hips rolled against hers again, thrusting between her thighs. Oh, Jesus. Mother of God…He ground his hips, rubbing the thick hard ridge of his erection against her.

She'd never thought of Roy like that. But now that she was, it was so insanely hot that she arched up into that grinding motion, rubbing her body against his. She felt his entire body go tense against hers at the movement and then—finally, finally—he jerked his head back, staring down at her with hot, lust filled eyes. The look on his face was expressionless. His face was flushed, his lips swollen, much like hers, as he stared down at her.

And she could feel the hot, heated insistent throb of his dick.

"Fu—" He whispered and then he was kissing her again, harder than before. He rose up further over her, more insistent than before. His movements were almost desperate, frantic as his hands slid down. His hands fisted in the material covering her thighs and jerked it up between them. Her eyes flew open—when had she closed them?—when his fingers curled in the black lace covering the junction of her thighs. He jerked and they ripped, following the path of his hand as he dragged the material and tossed it behind him. Her pupils dilated as he pulled back again, his lips inches from hers as his hand worked between them.

She wasn't expecting to feel the hot, hard feel of his cock rising up between them—bare skin against bare skin. Her chest heaved as she sucked in a sharp breath, felt the thick head settle in place against her. He moved his hand from between her legs and then he thrust. She jerked, her body tensing as his thick cock tunneled deep, thrusting into the hot, wet tight confines of her body. His hips slammed against hers from the movement, his cock buried deep.

The curse he gave was explosive as he started down at her, his body shaking, his hand cupped over her mouth to muffle the scream she gave.

He tensed above her, struggling to breath, struggling to keep from coming at the hot, mother fucking tight clasp of her body around his.

"Damn you." He whispered, almost vicious as he leaned down and kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth before he jerked back, staring down at her.

"You're a virgin." He whispered the hissed words out. His hand fell from her mouth and oh God, he wanted to move. She was so tight, her body gripping his like a vise. God, he kept saying he wasn't going to hurt her again, but even with the most basic of things, he still managed to do it. He hadn't known…he hadn't imagined. He wasn't drunk, just like he'd said. But he wasn't sober either. His mind wasn't exactly clear, at the moment.

The low, hissed out words didn't escape her. Of course she was a virgin…She hadn't exactly had time between her Father and Roy Mustang. Neither did the feel of her body being stretched by his. She was so small compared to him…he dropped his head, burying it against her neck. She couldn't move and even if she'd been able to, she wasn't sure she would have. She could feel the heavy breathes against her neck as he held her, his cock throbbing hard inside her. She wrapped an arm halfway around his shoulders, his fingers sliding beneath the collar that was halfway down one shoulder. With her other hand, she slid it down the back of his head, her hand combing through his damp hair.

He shuddered against her from the movement and then she felt his hips tense and then the slow drag of his cock as it slowly left her body. She inhaled hard, her body still trying to adjust to the width, the unfamiliar sensation...And then he thrust back in, slow, his cock butting up inside her. It wasn't easy, it wasn't a particular fond sensation, but it wasn't as painful as it had been….

He did it again, his lips teasing the skin of her throat, her unsteady pulse. He did it again…and again. Slow. She was just so…fucking…tight. She felt the shudder that racked his body as she gripped the hair at the back of his head as he thrust in again. Out…and in…She opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling, realizing…the pain…was gone. Gone as his hips recoiled, thrusting slowly, over and over, keeping that slow rhythm. And he kept his head against her throat, hot breathes fanning her neck as he thrust. She could feel the material of his pants against her inner thighs as he moved, one of his hands gripping her hip.

His next thrust had her eyes sliding closed. The one after that had her biting her bottom lip. And then she moaned, the sound muffled, but still heard behind her closed lips. He whispered something against her neck before his teeth closed over the skin of her neck, fascinated with her pulse. She didn't know what he said, but she really didn't care. All she knew was that his next thrust was a little harder. She whispered his name as he thrust again, stretching her body. Just the same, a little harder…

He bit her neck, hard enough to sting and she tightened her arm around his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin before sliding down, leaving four white long trails. He groaned against her neck and thrust hard, grinding his hips, keeping his cock lodged deep. She arched up from the movement, her eyes nearly rolling in the back of her head. He whispered something against her neck again, something she didn't understand and then he was thrusting again. It wasn't slow like he'd started. His thrust came harder, a little faster as the minutes ticked by, as if he couldn't help himself.

She shuddered beneath him and oh, God, she couldn't stop the moans that were rising up, escaping from her lips now. He whispered her name, his teeth biting, his tongue teasing her neck. It didn't take long before he was thrusting hard and fast, his hips slamming against hers. He groaned and one of his hands slid beneath her body. His thrust rubbed her body, moving it back and forth over the desk. She heard something fall as he thrust hard into her body, groaning again, and something rolled across the desk before falling to the floor with a rattle—pens scattering across the carpet.

His hand forced its way between her body and the desk, finally closing around the back of her neck. The desk gave a rhythmic squeak, a telltale sound of how hard he was moving and then his grip tightened on the back of her neck, using it for leverage as he pushed her downward with the grip, forcing her to meet him those few inches before he was thrusting the rest of the way in.

A moan rushed up as her body tightened around his, almost forcing his cock from her body as he thrust hard, fast. God, she was….Her nails scraped down his back, bringing another one of those groans from his lips and then her body exploded around his. She climaxed hard, her body convulsing down on his. She could feel the scream building up in her throat and then his hand was clamping over her mouth just as the scream left her lips, muffling an sound—loud—that would have left.

For the first time since he'd started moving, her eyes met his. Just as she was coming. The look on his face was fierce, concentrated. His lips were lifted in a silent snarl, his bangs sticking to his forehead from the sweat covering his body. Her body rippled around his and then his nostrils flared as he started slamming into her. The look on his face, his eyes was almost desperate—frantic. Something else rolled and fell off the desk but neither of them noticed it.

His face contorted, a look of pure bliss—ecstasy—covered his face before he gave another hard, mind numbing thrust that shoved her up the desk inches before she felt his cock throbbing. She didn't see the look on his face after that because as he convulsed over her, his body coming, jet after jet of hot seed filling her body, she was coming again. She bit his palm as she arched up beneath his heaving body…

A shudder wracked his body before he grew still and he fell against her, his full weight covering her slender body. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't move. Satisfaction like she'd never known filled her. Her hand slid down his back, felt the pounding of his heart and the slickness of his skin. His lips slid over her neck, the first move he'd made since he'd grown still.

His warm breath teased her skin, sliding over her neck before he chuckled against her damp skin. He kissed her pulse again—obviously obsessed with that spot—before he spoke.

"Going to shoot me?" He murmured.

Her lips curved into a small smile and she was glad he couldn't see the movement. "Yes." She whispered.


End file.
